


The Five Stages of War

by ThePsuedonym



Category: Original Work
Genre: At least in my opinion, Bad Poetry, But she is violent, Complete, Gen, How do I tag?, May be depressing to some readers, Original work - Freeform, Poetry, Stockholm Syndrome, War is not a person, everyone dies, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-16 13:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4627422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePsuedonym/pseuds/ThePsuedonym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>War, from the eyes of a soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Stages of War

**Author's Note:**

> This has no context or relation to reality.
> 
> I own this one. (For once.)

The Five Stages of War

I: HER COMING

He heard the sound of marching feet before

Their forms were clear to his eyes.

Beneath him

Tens of thousands of soldiers; uniformed,

Blank-eyed

And indifferent, armed and dangerous men

And women.

Guns crossed their chests, gleaming

Under the hot desert sun.

Squinting against the glare he attempted

To count them.

One, two, three…

No; there were simply too many.

Like cock-a-roaches they did multiply,

Navy uniforms spawned from æther.

But they were limited in their numbers, only

Mortal,

Unlike the hellish invaders that would

Dare to claim their lands –

Their homes! –

From the hands

Of innocent men, women and children,

Passed down from

God.

They, who cultivated the desert, to

Be forced into submission.

Blasphemy, at its finest!

And yet

And yet

They found themselves

Staring at the ugly face of

War,

Peering into

Her bloodshot eyes, glimpsing

Her tooth-

Lined maw that stank of flesh.

War, the dirty beast, had come to

Consume them all,

Rebel and Military, to force

Her

Victims into

Her

Ravenous gullet.

She came in the face of a man.

Another enlisted soldier.

Rebels protecting their families.

And those that would remain,

Those fortunate

Damned survivors, would be left to

Pick

Up

The

Pieces.

What remained of Home

Would no longer

Be Home.

Even he could see that.

He hoped that he would not live to see the

Hell

That would be unleashed upon the land once

War reared

Her head, making

Herself known through

Bloodshed and cries of the mis’rable damned.

II: HER PRESENCE

War was the sound of

Screaming: guns, human

And animal.

She –

For

War was the

Daughter of

Fear and

Ignorance,

Mother of

Hatred and

Greed, and all other human sins, for

They were

Her ilk, flesh and blood, spawn of

Her rotten womb –

Snatched up

Her sacrifices with great glee,

Bloody paws gently cradling those dead in

Her name.

War was the taste of sand and blood on the

Tongue, the grit and metal, water of

Life revitalizing flesh.

War was the smell of brimstone in the air,

Mingling with ozone as only lovers could,

Besmirching their masters as they called the

Unnatural forces to the face of the

Earth, bending

Her will to their unholy deeds.

War was the feel of nothing under one’s

Fingers; the numbness of mind and body,

Blessed in its ability to split the

Whole into parts.

To relieve the cursed, even if the effect was

Temporary.

War was the sight of the dead.

Innocent and guilty left out for

Vultures and coyotes to scavenge

And gorge themselves upon ill-spilt blood.

Glimpsing a man’s face before he died, his

Life

Pumping out onto one’s hands as the knife

Twisted in his stomach, releasing the

Body’s contents into the world.

III: HER WORDS

He shuddered and turned away from the

Truth.

IV: HER WORLD

He came to see that

War took many forms.

She shifted and curved at a whim, never

Breaking for anyone that called

Her name.

She was the terrible gleam in a man's

Eye when he moved in for the kill.

She was the impulsive, instinctive twitch

Of the fingers; pulling the trigger flat

Against the grip and ending another

She was the glee of death and destruction

At man's whim, avenged again and again

Without end.

She was the growing apathy when it

Had become too much for anyone to

Bear any longer.

He hated

Her face, familiar to

Him now as his wife's.

She was the one that warmed his bed at night,

His chosen partner long ago taken

Her last breath; replaced now by

War, terrible

As

She was beautiful.

V: HER FUTURE

He hated

Her, as he always did, but

Found himself unable to imagine

A world without

Her.

She was his one, his all; and he was

Her

Unwilling creature, bound to

Her will.

War was the mistress of Here and of

There, joining them in a wicked

War would consume them all, in the end;

She

Was the

Destroyer of Worlds,

Consumer of Life,

And would not cease until all rested at

Her feet.


End file.
